The Contingency
by The Lost Weasley
Summary: A reflection in the style of Margaret Atwood's "The Handmaid's Tale". What happens when a group of seventh year Slytherins find their loyalties?


Title: The Contingency

Author: The Lost Weasley

Spoilers: none really.

Rating: PG-13: Some nasty insinuations

Summary: Reflection.  Voldemort's return is blatant in the middle of seventh year and a group of Slytherins struggle to find their loyalties. 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter story. But she never lets the Slytherins out to play…see, I'm just helping out.  But still. Don't sue me.

 The only OC in this story is Kellan Ainsley, but she only plays a minor role. The narrative style has been influenced by the style of Margaret Atwood in "The Handmaid's Tale".  Also, the Contingency initiation is almost word-for-word from George Orwell's "1984", another one of the best books ever written

*

I remember how it was in the old days. Those weren't even that long ago.  It feels like a lifetime.  It's only been about three years. We were seventeen.

Shut up Draco, we'd say. No one wants to hear about your sexual exploits.

But they're not graphic or anything. Hell, you wish you were getting snogged as much as I am.

Some of us are, Draco. Theodore winks conspiratorially at me.  I grin.

Well you two don't count. You'll be together forever. Obviously you're shagging each other silly. Draco always thought like that. It was only worth it if you were putting up a fight.

Come off it, Draco, Pansy shushes him, You only wish you had what they do.

Most everyone envied Theodore and I. The perfect couple since the end of third year. We seemed inseparable.  That was then.

I sit up on my bed and turn to the side.  My door has opened.  The face of someone I used to know glares at me.  Names are no longer used.  We are dehumanized, worthless in the eyes of almost everyone.

"Come on, get up. No use in moping around like a sad Gryffindor."  They still used the term "Gryffindor" as a demeaning epithet.  Not much has changed, actually.  I get off my bed.

"Give me a minute."  I quickly don the clothing I should be wearing: long black skirt, black tank top, black robes reminiscent of those Professor Snape used to wear while teaching his lessons.  I grab my wand and ready myself mentally.

We walk down the halls of what used to be the passageway leading from Slytherin Dungeon.  I've made this walk thousands of times over. This is one of the only times I'm about to face death, though.

Darling? Are you sure you're up for this?  Theodore appraises me with a worried eye.

Don't worry. Remember. We all said we were going to get our Marks together. And get our Marks we will. I give his hand a compassionate squeeze and resist the urge to snog him on the spot.

Okay, you lovebirds. Let's go.  Millicent's voice rings out across the Common Room.  She'd never taken to calling us the Lovebirds had it not been for the fact that Draco bestowed that title upon us.  Millicent worshipped Draco.  She still might, in fact.

The eight of us don cloaks and trudge down to Professor Snape's office.  We were only seventeen.  We floo quickly to our destination, Snape accompanying us.  The ceremony is less formal than I expected.  Being seen in the presence of the Dark Lord, especially Hogwarts students, is risking Azkaban.  Our left forearms burned with pain for the next months.

"So nice to see you."  Draco smiles coldly.  "You were supposed to be ready."

"I was reminiscing.  So Avada me."

"I'm supposed to, you know."

"Save me your spiel, Draco.  Who today?"

"Kellan Ainsley.  You might not remember her.  Bitchy little Ravenclaw, the year below us?  She started taking Dark Magic lessons from your boyfriend when we were in sixth year."

"Oh. Her."  Of course I remember Ainsley.  She was a sniveling Ravenclaw who hero-worshipped us.  Non-Slytherins that like us are always memorable people.

I feel a burning on my left forearm.  "He's calling me."

"Then go.  You were going to anyways."

"Where's Theodore?"

"Safe.  He's out at the moment.  I'll tell him you asked for him."  I glare at Draco.  The last thing I need Theodore to know is that I'm worrying about him.  "Or maybe I won't.  Go do your job, and Godspeed."  That is the closest thing to a prayer that ever escapes Draco Malfoy's lips, and I relish the words for a moment, before apparating to the Dark Lord.

He's coming closer.  Father keeps warning me to get ready to flee.

Flee where?  Pansy wants to know.  To go join him?  Hell, I'll do that now.

If only we could, Millicent adds.  You do have to be 18 you know.

I am. So is Crabbe.  Goyle was always the more intelligent of the two.  We could just leave now.

He won't take you, I find myself saying.  He won't take you unless you're fully trained.  Which you two twits are obviously not.  Goyle draws his wand on me, I do likewise.  It's a standoff.  Finally, Goyle turns his back.  Not feeling like getting detention, I lower my wand.  Goyle, Crabbe, Pansy, Millicent, and Tracey all leave the Common Room.  Draco is about to leave.  I grab his arm.

I need to talk to you. Now.

What is it, darling?  He calls me darling to be condescending.  He knows I hate it.

The Contingency.  Tell me.

You might get yourself killed speaking of it here.  Does Theodore know?

He knows I'm not on the Dark Lord's side. Yes. And judging by the fact that I'm not dead, I'm guessing he's in agreement with me.

Keeping our heads down, whispering, and only talking of it outside of the Castle, I manage to get the information I need to know.  Getting the information to Theodore is much easier.  We spend plenty of weekends away from Hogwarts together; it's much safer when you're in your own house.

"My Lord." I drop my head in respect.  He raises it with a spindly white hand.

"So nice to be seeing you again.  I'd almost forgotten I had a use for you today."  What use, I do not ask.  It is not my place.

An elder Death Eater whom I do not recognize leads me to a grassy clearing full of small animals.  "The Dark Lord wishes to see your talents with the Cruciatus Curse."  The Dark Lord already knows it is my specialty; am I only here to show off?

"Crucio," I shout with a wave of my wand.  Suddenly, all the animals are on their backs, legs seized in spasms of pain.

The Dark Lord emerges from shadows, applauding me.  "I see your talents are varied…I have heard also of your success with Avada Kedavra."

"I like to consider myself skilled in all the Unforgivable Curses, my Lord."

"Ah, so vain.  No wonder you were a Slytherin.  You remind me somewhat of a younger, female version of myself.  So confident in your abilities."

_Yes,__ and a certain penchant for rule-breaking.  I do not voice my thoughts; to do so would mean my immediate death._

"Tell me, do you know of Adrian Pucey?"

Last day of term, blokes.  Can you believe we made it?  Draco is still amazed that none of us ended up expelled.

Oh, come off it.  The only people doing illicit things were you, me, and Theodore, I shoot back.  Draco with the illicit alcohol and sex, Theodore and I with just the sex.

It's rather unceremonial for Hogwarts, actually.  We leave school a week earlier than the younger students, which means an empty romp on the Hogwarts Express.  There are enough cars so that Theodore and I are able to find a completely empty one and place silencing and locking charms on it.  Not that we had anything to worry about from Slytherins, but those damn Hufflepuffs are always walking around like they own the train.

After our romp, Theodore is sitting in the seat, me laying my head in his lap and laying across the rest of the seat.

You were serious about this Contingency thing, weren't you?

You thought I wasn't?

Sometimes it's hard to tell with you.

Come off it, Theodore.  We've known each other since we were eleven.  You should be able to know by now when I'm joking and when I'm not.  I'm not bullshitting you.  Don't tell me you're backing out, I give him a pouty face.

Never. I just had to make sure I wasn't the only one writing my own death sentence here.

It won't be a death sentence if we pull it off right, I tell him for what must be the millionth time.  We were already seventeen.

"Of course.  I played Quidditch with him when we were at Hogwarts."

"Well then, obviously you must know that he is also gifted with the same extravagant abilities as you in terms of both Quidditch and Charms."

_I was damn better at Quidditch than he was_, I think to myself.  This is not the time for retorts.  "Of course, my Lord."

"Well, as it is my responsibility to keep my Pureblood wizards' gene pools healthy, I have decided it would be best if you and Pucey were to wed."

You don't say no to the Dark Lord.  However much you want to.  Rebellion causes premature death.  "Of course, my Lord.  However, I have not seen Adrian since he left Hogwarts.  Will I have a chance to see him?"

"If you wish.  If you wish."  The Dark Lord hands me a slip of paper.  "Apparate there.  This is the location of our resistance in London."

I apparate to a most peculiar sight.  The once-alive figure of Adrian Pucey is being towered over by a more familiar male.  I speak just above a whisper.  "He was your target?"

"Who's yours?"

"Kellan Ainsley.  Surely you must remember her."  I smirk a bit, remembering when Theodore would come into my room, cuddle up next to me, and recount the stupid things that Ainsley had done to try and get him.

"Yes. Ainsley. Damned Ravenclaw. Well, you'd best get on it.  Wouldn't want it to look like you were slacking."

"Did you know?"

"What?"

"The Dark Lord had chosen Pucey for me to," I clear my throat, "marry."

"I would have never allowed it.  I'd die before I see you marry anyone else."

"You too. I love you."

"I love you too.  Now go mark your target and come back soon."

You do realize you are about to embark on a dangerous enterprise.  Snape lectures Theodore and I on the dangers of the Contingency.  Draco has already received the speech months before.  Also present are Antonin Dolohov, Rastaban Lestrange, and Augustus Rockwood.  The terms he outlines are stated, not asked.  This is what we do as Contingency members.

Yes, we all reply. Monotonously.

You are prepared to give your lives.

Yes.

You are prepared to commit murder.

Yes.

To commit acts of sabotage which may cause the death of hundreds of innocent people.

Yes.

To betray your loyalties to others.

Yes.

You are prepared to cheat, to forge, to blackmail, to corrupt the minds of children, to distribute habit-forming drugs—to do anything which is likely to cause demoralization and weaken the power of the Death Eaters?

Yes.

Say for instance that it would serve our interests to perform Avada Kedavra on an Auror.  You are prepared to do that.

Yes.  
  


You are prepared to commit suicide at the slightest sign from us.

Yes.  This one stirs my heart a bit.  My mother killed herself upon being discovered as a Contingency member.

You are prepared to separate and never see each other again.

No! We answer simultaneously with as much gusto as we can.  We look at each other.  Theodore speaks.  There is no way we can separate unless it is in death.

And you feel this way also? Lestrange speaks to me.

Yes. I will not leave Theodore.  Except in death.

Thank you for telling us.  We needed to know your weaknesses.

"Ainsley."  My voice comes out wavier than it should.  I'm supposed to be calm and collected.  You can't feel over death.

"I haven't seen you since Hogwarts, how have you been?"

"I'm surprised you ended up getting your Mark, Ainsley.  Was it so you could get closer to Theodore?"

She turns furious and draws her wand on me.  I am quicker.  "Avada Kedavra!"  With those words, the room turns green and Ainsley collapses into a heap on the floor.

The wards were removed from Hogwarts.  We can apparate back and forth as we please.  I end up in what was once the Great Hall.  I know where Theodore is waiting for me.

I knock lightly on the door.  The door was once decorated with my name in swirly letters, sixth and seventh years, when I was a prefect.

"I've been waiting for you. I was worried sick."

"You would be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"  We snuggle closer together.

"You're always worried about me, and I'm not allowed to worry about you.  It's not fair, you know."

"Well, I say it is.  So it is."  I stick out my tongue and we laugh.  We are seventeen again.

The door flings open.  Draco stands in the doorway.  "Come outside."

We oblige, not knowing what's going on.  We find ourselves surrounded.  Bellatrix Lestrange.  Regulus Black.  Igor Karakoff.  Rodolphus Lestrange.  Vincent Crabbe.  Gregory Goyle.  Walden Macnair.  Lucius Malfoy.  Pansy Parkinson.  Millicent Bulstrode.  Tracey Davis.  And Draco Malfoy.  Of course.  He had been working on the inside for Voldemort.

I grip Theodore's hand in mine, envelop him in a hug, and lower my voice.  "We can't take them all.  I'm sorry. I love you."


End file.
